


Lenses

by inkreservoir



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Documentary, M/M, Post-Canon, eichi "i don't care what you think is too gay for tv" tenshouin, exasperated videographer digs up the ghost of yumenosaki past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 10:05:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16784788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkreservoir/pseuds/inkreservoir
Summary: “Although, thinking on it now, I cannot recall a time I have ever heard Eichi Tenshouin apologize.”





	Lenses

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally for the Enstars! Graduation Zine. You can view and/or download the zine in full at: https://gumroad.com/l/enstars3rdyears.

Poppy beats and friendly strums of guitar bounce across the walls of the dressing room muted by the laughter of the person sitting in the chair, decked in sapphire-toned fabrics of a fineness glimpsed only at weddings for the average person. “You know I can do this myself, right, Eichi?” he says, and his partner, dressed in an outfit equally dramatic, gives a pout.

“I know, and you’d do a better job of it than me,” Eichi says, “but I’ve been wanting to braid your hair since I first _saw_ it, Wataru.”

“Um…” Reiji slowly cranes his head around the viewfinder of the camera mounted on his shoulder. “Don’t forget that this stuff’s gonna go in the documentary, too.”

“It’s fine,” Eichi waves his hand breezily, and Reiji repositions the camera to point at them again. It’s been like this throughout the entirety of the filming process so far, neither party inclined to dial back on any intimacy even knowing this footage would eventually be seen by thousands of eager viewers. If not for the fact he can replay their old televised segments from the time when the duo act was still in high school, it’d be hard for Reiji to believe that Eichi was ever perceived as stiff around his counterpart. That only a few short months before they began performing together, their entire school had seen them as enemies.

In fact, once Reiji started interviewing other alumni from Yumenosaki Academy, it became clear rather quickly that Eichi’s positive public persona differs greatly from how many of his former classmates view him.

“That’s not really a secret,” Eichi shrugs, sitting in a blouse and sweater on the other side of the camera. “Many of our earlier songs deal directly with the topic, though most people don’t read into lyrics too much or know enough of our history to see the connection. My redemption arc happened before most people thought to point their camera at me.”

He gives a closed-lipped smile to the camera, but there’s a sparkle in his eye.

Wataru gives much more detailed answers than his partner does, or so it seems, but for the fact that every time Reiji goes back through his clips he realizes Wataru has told him nothing at all.

“What do you think of Mr. Tenshouin’s relationship with Mr. Hibiki?” Reiji asks. Keito Hasumi is perhaps the contact Reiji was luckiest to score, who’d put his idol activities on hold to pursue university and rarely responds to contact requests. It was probably by Eichi’s recommendation that he sits tall in a suit, carefully positioned in his chair so the lights won’t reflect in his glasses, which he pushes up before he answers.

“They have a good working relationship, one that started when they were in high school,” Keito speaks in a professional, measured tone, his green eyes focused but dull. “Their style embodies a desire to push boundaries and always give the best performance either of them can muster.”

Reiji smiles. “I take it you’re a fan of theirs, then?”

“I’m his best friend, not his fan,” Keito snorts, and Reiji nods. Fair enough.

“Mr. Tenshouin describes that he and Mr. Hibiki got off on a shaky foot at first,” Reiji says. “And that it took time for them to become as close as they are now. Can you speak to that a little?”

Keito shifts. Just slightly, barely noticeable, his back just a little straighter, the line of his lips just a little flatter. “… Eichi was the student council president,” he deliberates slowly. “And Hibiki eschewed the school rules. I suppose that’s what he meant.”

Reiji picks up his notes and riffles through them quickly. “If I understand correctly, a few others who went to school with you described that his issues with Mr. Hibiki happened prior to Mr. Tenshouin becoming the president? For example, his unit, fine, was originally comprised of a different set of students than those of his graduating year.”

A wrinkle forms on Keito’s forehead, and he pushes his glasses up again, though they weren’t falling.

“I’ve known Eichi since he was very young,” Keito tells Reiji. “He was always a child with a lot of ambition, but he’s not… without heart. And these days, I’m no longer the only person who sees that.”

Keito sinks back into his chair. “He always deserved to have his dreams come true. It took time, but he’s making his way to that now. With his own efforts, and without sacrificing others in the process. I’ve always believed in him.”

He looks behind the camera, smoldering eyes meeting Reiji’s with nothing between them. “And if you’re wise, you will too.”

Eichi laughs when Reiji describes Keito’s comment to him. “Oh, that’s just how Keito talks,” he says, not taking his eyes off the road outside the backseat car window. “Everything comes out sounding like a threat when he’s trying to be nice.”

Reiji adjusts the camera lens to get a closer shot, Eichi’s blown-out blond locks and a quarter view of his profile. “It sounds like he cares about you a lot.”

“It’s always been like that,” Eichi says. “Even when no one else did, there was always Keito.”

Reiji was only able to find one incident where Keito and Eichi performed together, an event called the Quarrel Festival from when they were in high school. Yuzuru Fushimi responded to his request for footage, but according to him, Eichi wasn’t able to perform on stage for the majority of it, and doesn’t himself appear in any of the few videos that were taken.

“Souma Kanzaki told me that the stakes of that event were the potential disbandment of Mr. Hasumi’s unit,” he says, and Eichi looks back at him, a smile playing on his lips. “Mr. Hasumi says you and Mr. Hibiki didn’t get along at first because he didn’t follow the school rules, but wasn’t Mr. Hasumi the vice president of the student council?”

“That’s right,” Eichi tells Reiji. When after a moment Reiji says nothing, Eichi massages a few strands of hair between his fingers. “Would he forgive me even for this? I wondered.”

“Was he even angry at you?”

“Heh, Keito’s always angry at me.” Eichi looks back out the window. Ribbons of late afternoon sunlight cast a warm glow on his features, his cream sweater appearing almost reddish on camera. He keeps his hands folded in his lap, and Reiji wonders if he should ask another follow-up question when Eichi continues, “He’s always angry… but he always loves me. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember, since back when we were young and ignorant to the world.”

Reiji nods, more for his own benefit than Eichi’s. “Can you tell me a little about where we’re going?” he asks.

Eichi straightens. “We’re going to meet an old…” he pauses, then dissolves into a short burst of giggles, hair whipping behind his shoulder when he locks eyes with Reiji behind the camera. “Well, he might have a better idea of what to call it than I do.”

The office they walk into should’ve been unremarkable. The marble floors and wall tapestries of Eichi’s meeting room are a far cry from what most artists or even fully-fledged companies can afford to boast. The tiny studio on the upstairs floor of a small joint building in downtown Tokyo with tile flooring and fluorescent lighting never stood a chance, not even with the grand piano and variously shaped instrument cases littering the floor, or the computer with dozens of wires coming out of it making it look much more 2003 than smartphone age. But there’s no denying the squiggles that line the floor and the walls, every colour Reiji’s ever seen on a Sharpie shelf at the office supplies shop makes an appearance in the form of music note or bar and sometimes scrambles of characters Reiji assumes could be lyrics or frenzied rambling notes on every surface of the room including the piano. Remembering why he’s here, Reiji starts walking the perimeter of the room with his camera, trying to capture as much as possible.

“I almost said no, you know, when I got your request,” a loud voice bursts through the door at the far end of the room, and a short young man in a plain white dress shirt and the most colourful zig-zag patterned fitted pants Reiji’s ever seen lets it slam behind him and purposefully strides over to where Eichi stands by the entrance. Reiji turns his camera to point at them. “‘Someone from the Tenshouin family wants to work with you,’ my secretary was saying, and I thought, hmmm, there's only one pest from that family who’d keep bothering me even after we're supposed to be grownups.”

“Leo,” Eichi grins, holding his hand out to shake, and Leo chatters on as if he doesn’t see it.

“Especially when she said you wanted to bring some showbiz guy with a huge bulky camera to my teeny tiny abode so he could spy on everything I say and report it to the aliens,” Leo sighs. “I trust the aliens way more than I trust you, though, Emperor.” Reiji’s lens follows Leo to another set of doors that he didn’t notice, and from behind them he drags out a table and three fold-up chairs. Eichi stands aside as Leo hastily arranges them around the table. “Well? Have a seat.”

Reiji thanks him, shaking his bag off his shoulder to set up the tripods.

“Truthfully, I never imagined that you’d agree to meet with me,” Eichi says, pausing for a moment to study the chair before slowly lowering himself onto it. It wouldn’t surprise Reiji if this is the first time the young man’s sat in a plastic folding chair in his entire life. “Did you call me out here to give me false hope so you could see my face when you reject me in person, then?”

Reiji’s brow wrinkles, compelled to remind Eichi again that there is a camera in the room, but it’s not like he can’t see it. Leo leans back in his chair to teeter on the hind legs, rubbing his chin exaggeratedly. “Maybe!” he declares, an impish grin overtaking his face. “And maybe I’m planning to keep you waiting a little longer!”

“How cruel,” Eichi purses his lips. Leo angles forward and the chair slams back to the floor. Reiji raises his eyebrows when before his lens Eichi releases a relieved breath.

“That’s right,” Leo nods. “So what was your plan, Mr. Big Shot Business Idol? Looking for a high school reunion? Planning to revive…”

He trails off.

“Revive…”

Eichi crosses his legs, relaxing into the chair, and Leo stares at him.

“What was that stupid name you came up with?”

“Knight Killers,” Eichi tells him. “And it wasn’t stupid. You said you loved it.”

“I was just being nice,” Leo waves his hand.

Eichi hums. “That would be fun. Unfortunately, I don’t think the other members would be available for such a thing.”

The other members— Nazuna Nito and Kuro Kiryuu. The four of them had formed a unit together that was designed to split up Knights, one of the most popular units at Yumenosaki Academy. Under the leadership of Tsukasa Suou, it’s grown ever stronger since its original members graduated, its name known in more places than just the local area around the school and among competing high school idol groups. Nazuna had declined an invitation to comment when Reiji reached out to him, and Kuro simply directed Reiji to his roommate and said it would be better if Keito handled any discussion of Eichi Tenshouin. Given that Nazuna is a touring idol, Reiji hadn’t really expected any different. It was easy enough to acquire information about the show, though, as by now it reached legendary status at Yumenosaki Academy, and Eichi himself was all too willing to describe his enthusiasm at having a chance to work with the great Leo Tsukinaga.

“Besides,” Eichi continues. “I know you aren’t performing as an idol anymore.”

Leo frowns, and Reiji adjusts the lens to focus on his nails drumming on the table.

“I want a song.”

Leo’s hand stops. With a careful eye trained on Eichi, he slowly folds his arms and gives Eichi a narrow-eyed smile. “A song, huh?” he repeats. “I guess your super expensive people you’ve been paying since we were in school to write your music aren’t good enough for you anymore?”

Reiji winces.

“I’m only asking for one song,” Eichi clarifies. “I’m hardly looking to buy you as my full-time composer.” He pauses. “Not that I wouldn’t like that.”

Leo sighs.

“If you have to know the truth, though,” Eichi tells him. “Wataru has been saying lately that he believes our songs could use a little more heart, and the ones you wrote me when we were in the hospital together are still my favourites to sing now.”

“Sing those, then,” Leo dismisses him. “They were gifts. You can use them however you want… and I guarantee they had more _heart_ in them than anything I could possibly write for you now.”

Eichi blinks. Then he does something Reiji has never seen him do before; he stammers. “I… but...”

Leo cackles, and it’s the kind of laugh that could cut through steel, filling up the room like fog, and Eichi remains perfectly still.

Leo flashes his sharp teeth. “I caught you off guard, didn’t I? I guess after all this time the Emperor still gets surprised when people are actually good friends.”

Eichi visibly flinches, and for a moment Reiji regrets being in the room, although this is exactly the kind of content that he was hoping to gather in tagging along.

“I have good friends now,” Eichi stilts.

It takes a few moment for Leo’s smile to fade, and he touches the table to draw circles across it with his fingertip. “Sorry,” he says.

“You aren’t the one who ought to be sorry,” Eichi replies, and Leo’s head jerks up to look at him. Eichi sucks in a breath, and then, for a moment, his eye drifts to Reiji and the camera. Leo follows his gaze, then looks back at Eichi, chewing his lip. “That’s all I wanted to say,” Eichi concludes. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

He shifts, the plastic chair screeching a little when he pushes back from the table, and stands to his feet to give Leo a stiff nod.

“Good luck with your movie,” Leo snorts.

As Eichi makes his way to the door, Reiji hovers. Leo looks at him expectantly.

“Could I interview you?” Reiji asks, and Leo smirks. The studio door clicks behind Eichi. A beat passes, then another, and then Reiji says, “I understand, thank you anyway,” and hastily packs up his equipment.

Eichi gazes wistfully at the tiny building when Reiji climbs back into the car.

“That could have gone better,” he murmurs.

“What did you hope would happen?” Reiji asks.

Eichi’s quiet, then shrugs. “I wanted a song.”

It’s difficult to discern the details of what Eichi did to earn Leo’s ire, as they were apparently quite close friends once, but he isn’t the first person Reiji’s come across in his digging who said similar things. Tsumugi Aoba was the only person of Eichi’s original fine who was open to discussing their prior friendship, and though he didn’t say overtly that he felt betrayed by Eichi, his pained expression was evidence enough of it. People with personal grudges against Eichi seem abundant, including a few who Wataru described as close friends of his. Specifically, close friends with whom Wataru was once associated with as the Three Oddballs— and some even said that they were the Five Oddballs before that.

Two of them besides Wataru had been willing to speak with Reiji. Shu Itsuki had quite literally hung up the phone in Reiji’s face when he asked, and Kanata Shinkai is impossible to contact except through his performing partner Chiaki Morisawa, who advised Reiji to give up the pursuit. Natsume Sakasaki actually granted Reiji an interview, but the things he said were even less usable than most of Wataru’s content, and Reiji had left the meeting much more confused than he’d been when he walked into it and half-convinced the youngest Oddball had been lying to him the entire conversation.

Rei Sakuma is, along with a few others of his graduating year, arguably one of the busiest alumni Yumenosaki Academy has ever had, with a name that’s quickly becoming well-renowned even internationally. He didn’t have time for a full interview, but he did grant Reiji permission to record a conversation over the phone, with the caveat that he would have to learn to use a phone first.

“Eichi Tenshouin is not an evil person,” Rei’s voice says through the speaker. “But he has in the past made the lives of others complicated, in ways that even apologies may be insufficient to mend.”

He pauses.

“Although, thinking on it now, I cannot recall a time I have ever heard Eichi Tenshouin apologize.”

“You’ve done shows together since graduating,” Reiji comments, holding the phone between his cheek and shoulder and flipping through his notepad. “Would you say the two of you have a better relationship now?”

“’Better’ is a relative term,” Rei tells him. “I’ve mentioned that Wataru is a dear friend of mine, as well as Eichi’s partner. And… fun does tend to follow that pair. I can’t say I hate being where the fun is.”

And that brings Reiji back to Wataru, long blue hair dangling toward the floor, legs crossed over the back of the couch. Reiji hadn’t, of course, asked Wataru to give this interview upside-down, but Wataru told Reiji that the viewers have quite enough knowledge of what he looks like right-side up.

“Did you ever feel hurt by Eichi’s actions toward you and your friends?” Reiji asks, and it’s a more straightforward question than he’d normally ask, but if he’s learned anything about the Yumenosaki alumni throughout this process, it’s that obtuse questions only lead to increasingly more absurd and obtuse answers.

“It is only human to be hurt,” Wataru declares enthusiastically, allowing a hand to fall to the floor. “Luckily, my friends and I are frequently seen as something more than human… and besides that, perhaps you hadn’t caught on, but we were the villains of that tale. Of course, the roles were at times difficult to discern.”

“So it’s like Mr. Hasumi said, then?” Reiji asks. “That you were breaking school regulations, and so Eichi aligned himself against you?”

Wataru touches his lip. “I would say,” he starts slowly. “That generally speaking, things are never as Mr. Hasumi says they are.”

Reiji pauses. “He said that you and Eichi have a good working relationship.”

“Except for that!” Wataru says, springing up into a sort of flip and somehow landing in a regular sitting position on the sofa, teapot conjured from nowhere in his hand and pouring into a little cup. “Although his statement remains incomplete. Rather than having a ‘good working relationship’, I would say that Eichi and I have quite the excellent _partnership_ in all aspects of our life that we share together!”

“You seem quite fond of him,” Reiji says, and Wataru nods eagerly.

“Tea?” he offers, and Reiji shakes his head. Wataru pulls a handkerchief from his blazer and blows into it, feigning sobs. When Reiji doesn’t react, he dabs at his eyes and looks up at the camera again.

“What would you say are the differences between your relationship with Mr. Tenshouin and your former classmates’ relationships with him?” Reiji asks. “He and Mr. Hasumi seem to have an unwavering childhood bond, but as with many of your classmates, your relationship with Mr. Tenshouin included a period of animosity. Why do you think it is that the two of you were able to become close friends, whereas to this day others he knew at the same time have maintained their distance?”

“That’s quite the loaded question,” Wataru stirs sugar into his tea. “Are you sure you’re a real journalist?”

Reiji watches as milk pours itself into Wataru’s cup. “You reserve the right to refuse to answer any question I ask you,” he says simply.

Wataru watches him evenly, then says, “If you would so graciously accept the tea that I have so lovingly prepared for you, I may be persuaded to give you an answer.”

It’s just the right temperature when it touches Reiji’s tongue, and the taste; just sweet enough, a little spicy, almost creamy in texture... he thanks Wataru, and Wataru gives him a brilliant smile.

“Tell me, dear Reiji,” Wataru says when Reiji is seated on the sofa beside him. “Have you ever adored someone— truly adored, fervently, breathlessly, with every ounce of passion you can muster?”

Reiji stares at him. These two are daring, certainly, but a full-blown love confession on camera?

“Be honest,” Wataru urges, and Reiji clears his throat.

“I… yes, I suppose so,” he says. It could just be Wataru’s dramatic nature leading him to choose these words.

“And have you ever, in some misguided attempt to express that affection, hurt that person?”

For a few long seconds, the room is silent. Finally, Wataru asks, “What made them forgive you?”

When Eichi steps into the room later that evening, Wataru helps him remove his coat and makes it fly onto its place on their coat stand. As they sit around the coffee table and Wataru pours Eichi some tea, Eichi suggests that he and Wataru think about writing a song of their own for once. It’ll be a challenge, he admits, but Wataru is already humming a tune, and when Reiji recaps his camera and opens their front door, Eichi is lying on the couch with his eyes closed in Wataru’s lap, Wataru gently combing back strands of the other’s hair with his fingers, soft murmurs and a laugh that could silence a room.


End file.
